While much attention was paid to Barack Obama passing the magic number of delegates for the Democratic nomination for president, another not-so-magic number was passed in Chicago: 24 to 25. That is, sadly, another Chicago Public School student who was killed this school year. You might have missed this story because it didn’t involve gangs or some brazen shootout. It was an accident.
19-year-old Keenan Reno was shot and killed when a gun his friend was playing with accidentally fired. The friend, 16, is in custody, and his identity has not been revealed because of his age. Unfortunately Reno’s death has not warranted any of the outcries or press conferences we have come to expect from our leaders and officials. Why? I thought one of problems they thought was at heart was the proliferation of guns in our communities. Why aren’t we asking ourselves where and how a 16 year old got a gun? Could it be that a story such as this is just a blurb on their and the media’s radar screens — a story not juicy enough to hide behind in order to prop whatever legislation or agenda they might have to Springfield or D.C.?
Left after the headlines is a family who will have to live through the nightmare of burying a child and another family who will live through the nightmare of possibly having their child behind bars, not to mention forgotten like all of the teens who end up behind the trigger of a gun.
While Keenan’s teachers are left to console a room full of classmates and friends, students at Dixon Elementary will have to look elsewhere.
On the same weekend Keenan Reno was killed, Dixon teacher Erika Prince was shot and killed while sitting in her car — the victim of mistaken identity. Although I did not know Erika Prince, I feel a small loss. For a brief time I was junior high student at Dixon, and for five years I lived less than two blocks away on 82nd and Eberhart on Chicago’s South Side. I don’t have many memories of my brief time there as a student, but I can recall the countless days seeing children, fresh out of school, either walking up and down our block or along 83rd Street. It’s a good school that has produced many students who have completed college and found success in various careers. Like many schools that go unnoticed, it is the epitome of a neighborhood school.
People care about it. People have a stake in it. People like Erika Prince, who taught special ed students and was a devoted mother to her children. A couple of weeks ago, the Chicago Tribune ran a story on the difficult task teachers face when having to console students when one of their classmates is killed by violence. In the case of Erika Prince, we have to ask ourselves, who will console the students when, sadly, their teacher cannot?
The week of tragedy extended itself into the west suburbs with the murder of 17-year-old Tawanna Ford, the innocent of a shooting caused by an exchange of words between her boyfriend and others. From those interviewed, Tawanna sounded like any normal teenager: shy, good personality, hard-working, goals in life. Her principal described her as the type student a school would want more of, instead of just a few.
But like Keenan Reno, Tawanna doesn’t get a front page, a press conference or a march to Springfield or D.C. If we are to seriously address violence and our youth, we cannot pick and choose these deaths like fashion or houses, making one important because of the way one died, or making one less important because they happen to live in the wrong zip code or wasn’t a CPS student. Every life is precious, and every death is a tragedy.
What are we going to do?
In this long, long soap opera that is the 2008 presidential election, we’ve yet to see a serious debate on education and curbing youth violence in communities not just in Chicago but across the country. Nominees John McCain and Barack Obama are interested in doing a series of townhalls or Lincoln/Douglas-style debates. If they actually go through with it, I invite them to come to Chicago, Baltimore, Detroit, Newark, New Orleans, or countless other cities and have a townhall about how we can come together to help our youth.
Is that a pipe dream? Maybe. But I thought 2008 was about change.
